


Au Bon Snouffleur

by whereismywarden (PearOh)



Series: Dragon Age - Inquisitor Violette Surana - Sad Mages Worldstate [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Food, Gratuitous French, Gross Orlesian Food, Humor, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearOh/pseuds/whereismywarden
Summary: (Tumblr prompt) Violette and Samson stop in a fancy Orlesian restaurant and try one of the chef's most disturbing dish.





	Au Bon Snouffleur

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt for anonymous: “Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way.” for Inquisitor/Samson.

They stopped in Val Royeaux on their way back to Skyhold for some well-deserved rest and a meal. The restaurant Violette picked was fancy. Much too fancy for either of them, but she was the Inquisitor. Chefs were queuing up to have her eat in their establishments which, in turn, meant that she could eat wherever she damn well pleased, and _ Le Bon Snouffleur _ served gourmet Orlesian cuisine that she was eager to try. A decision that she ended up regretting almost as soon as the server brought the chef’s special to their table.

“I am not eating that.”

“Oh come on, what’s so bad about this?” Samson asked with a raised eyebrow.

She cringed. “These are druffalo testicles!” 

He rolled his eyes, a playful smile growing across his lips.

“Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t feel the same way,” she said, scowling at him. “I saw the look on your face when I told you what  _ ‘animelles de druffle à la sauce Meghren’ _ meant.”

“I was surprised, that’s all. Didn’t know you could eat  _ that. _ ”

“You can but I certainly won't,” she retorted, looking almost nauseous. "How are you not disgusted by this?"

“You learn not to be too picky when you're living on the streets. I've eaten rats, I can eat anything, especially when it looks and smells so good.”

Samson stabbed his fork into his plate and brought a piece of meat into his mouth. It was actually quite good, not as good as fish and egg pie, but rather tasty.

“I've seen you eat gross Orlesian stuff before,” he said, chewing on another piece. “How is this any worse than snouffleur tongue or nug intestines?”

In retrospect, seeing druffalo testicles on the menu shouldn’t have surprised him at all. Orlesians would eat anything as long as you put enough parsley and garlic in it. Except for this particular Orlesian woman, it seemed.

“These are balls. I will not eat balls.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.”

She kicked him under the table. “You better wash that mouth of yours before I let it come anywhere near me again,” she declared, her nose scrunching up into a grimace of disgust. “As for me, I’ll stick with a salad,” she added, raising her hand to call for a server.

The man scurried over toward them. “Un problème, Votre Grâce?”

“En fin de compte, je prendrais bien une salade royale.”

“Excellent choix, ma dame. Dois-je remporter votre plat?”

“No,” Violette answered in the common tongue. “My friend here can eat it since he loves it so much.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” he told her before smiling up apologetically at the lad. “You can tell the chef that this is an excellent dish. The Lady Inquisitor is just being a little prickly today.”

The server gave them a quick bow before stepping away. Violette had started picking at a slice of bread, tossing small bites into her mouth in hunger as she waited for him to return with her salad. By the time she was served, Samson had already finished his own plate and was ready to attack hers.

“You know,” she said with a soft smile, “despite your disgusting tastes, it’s good to see you eat with so much appetite.”

“Maybe you should recruit the chef for the Inquisition then,” he joked.

She glared at him for a few seconds before answering, “Not going to happen.”


End file.
